


Sink Your Teeth

by ToMarsAndBeyond3



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: A lot of pain, Found Family, I only post self insert shit on this account I want to scream, I should start posting my actual content sometime, I'm lonely leave me be, Other, The poor boys, maybe one day - Freeform, shameless self insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 04:17:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13403298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToMarsAndBeyond3/pseuds/ToMarsAndBeyond3
Summary: A collection of stories about a very shameless self insert.Casper and Vogel find themselves in Blackwing, a heinous government branch, and are thrown into a room with three others. The five boys share their experiences as they live their lives both outside and inside the facility.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty shameless at this point. I've been playing this game too long to be worried about "oooh self insert cringe!!211!1". If I want to write weird stories to help me cope I'm damn well going to. Let's just enjoy our lives, guys.
> 
> No one is related but hey, found family is better than blood.
> 
> The ages in the fic are as follows:
> 
> Martin: 23  
> Gripps: 20  
> Cross: 18  
> Casper: 16  
> Vogal: 8
> 
>  
> 
> And a special appearance by a tiny Dirk, who is 13 years old.

Casper could not sense Vogal.

Usually, the kid was within five feet of Cas. He was a small kid, and didn't like being separated from people for a prolonged period of time. Cas had a suspicion that Vogel's separation issues had to do with why he was homeless before the age of ten, but it didn't matter he supposed. Things just were how they were, and they couldn't change that. It still stood that Casper couldn't sense his - non-blood related - little brother, and his heart sped up. Somewhere in the distance, a muted beeping sped up as well.

"He's awake-"

"Sedate him, now-"

"How did he absorb all the morphine-"

Casper felt himself fall back into the murky darkness.

 

"Ghost!"

Casper groaned. The floor beneath him - that was a floor, he was sure - was cold and hard on his back. The chill cut through whatever kind of shirt he was wearing, sending would-be chills up his spine. Could he move, that is. His stomach twisted painfully, sending waves of a strange emptiness throughout his body.

"Ghost! Ghost! Get up!"

Vogal.

Casper opened his eyes. The harsh fluorescent lighting from above flooded into his vision, blinding him. He moved his head to the side groaning. The feeling of hands all over him appeared, and Casper found himself being hoisted upright.

He might actually be sick.

"Get 'im on the bed."

"I'm trying, Cross. I'm tired, man."

Casper was sat on a cot now. The mattress was hard and uncomfortable, as if not much thought or time had been put into it. He could feel waves of concern and intrigue floating around the room; there was a small tide of excitement coming from beside Cas himself. The emotions certainly weren't coming from him, and that was alarming. Attempting to gather some sort of strength, Casper focused his eyes.

"Ghost!"

Vogal was beside him, jumping up and down with glee at the sight of his brother. Both of his tiny hands grasped Casper's right. Behind Vogal, three boys stood on the ready, almost as if ready to catch Cas if he were to fall. The tallest one, who was standing in the back, had unkempt white blonde hair that was almost unnerving; the next one had long dark hair and a circle around his right eye; the last one had bright eyes and seemed enthusiastic. Casper felt a familiar type of pull looking at the group. It was the same type of pull he'd felt towards Vogal when he'd found him in the alley. A pull towards safety, towards family.

The one with bright eyes cracked a grin.

"Why does the small kid call you 'Ghost'?"

Casper opened his mouth. His throat cracked, dry as a desert during a drought. He coughed. Before he could try to speak again, Vogal spoke up.

"He's the ghost! Casper the good ghost!"

"Huh?"

The tallest boy chuckled, waves of amusement washing over from his direction. He set his gaze on Casper.

"Casper? That your name?"

Cas nodded, still feeling dazed. The tall boy looked older than the rest, but he couldn't get his head right enough to guess his age. It made him uneasy.

"Yeah." Casper's voice was rough. He swallowed and tried again. "Yeah. That's Vogal, too."

Vogal flashed a wide smile. The boy with a circle on his face raised an eyebrow.

"Vogal? Riggins said his name was Jacob."

Waves of discontentment rose from Vogel's small body. His mouth twisted to the side, and his eyes narrowed. If he was older - much older - he would have looked threatening. As he was just a child however, it came off as endearing. In a wild sort of way. This time, they all laughed heartily. They seemed happy.

"I'm Martin." The tallest boy pointed to himself, then gestured to the one with the circle and the bright eyed one. "That's Cross, and that's Gripps there."

Casper moved his hand and rested it on Vogel's upper arm, a silent signal to stop moving around. The small boy ceased his jumping, looking at Casper expectant. A jolt ran through Cas as he saw a line of stitches run over and down the back of his hand and arm. He shuddered, a vauge and distant memory of a recent scuffle with men in riot gear trying to force it's way to the surface.

"Where are we?"

Martin's expression darkened.

"You don't know?" Cross's eyebrows drove together, his eyes narrowing. Cas shook his head slightly. He could sense Vogal becoming jittery from both the lack of movement.

"This is Blackwing." Gripps spoke up.

"Blackwing?"

"Hell yeah. Shittiest government cage in the world."

"Language, Gripps. There's a kid in here."

"Screw off, you fucking tool, Martin."

They grinned at each other. 

"Cage?" Vogal had spoken suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. The four boys looked down at him. The child looked out of place, Casper noticed. His usual black, childish threads replaced with a jumpsuit. In fact, all the boys looked out of place in this white, pristine environment.

The jumpsuit was made of a thin, tough fabric. It rubbed uncomfortably against Casper's skin, threatening to become an all consuming and overwhelming sensory input. He reached up to pull his collar away from his throat, and noticed that his sleeve had the numbers "005" printed on it. A shudder ran down his spine.

"What does the government want with us?" Casper looked up.

He was met with silence.

 

The five boys had been thrown roughly into a contained room. Vogal was hanging loosely off of Martin, and the three older ones had suddenly grown on edge. Searching. The room was too dark to see in, but it became quickly apparent that they were in there for a very specific reason. Casper could sense an undiluted amount of fear radiating off of someone in the room. His drained body quaked with hunger at the smell. The lights flickered on, and he was taken aback to see a small boy in the middle of the room.

The boy looked dazed and confused, looking around with an intense sort of desperation. His hair was light and unkempt, matching with his eyes, which were wildly flitting across the room. His jumpsuit was different from that of Casper's. The symbol on it was different, and the front of the boy's suit had the word "Icarus" printed on it.

His eyes fell on the group with an overwhelming sense of fear.

It was sickeningly obvious what the purpose of this was. The staff wanted, needed Project Incubus to feed. That in itself was fine. The sickening part was that they were using a terrified kid to do it. There wasn't another choice, he knew. Otherwise he'd starve.

Casper thought that perhaps he wanted to break something.

"Sorry about this, Icarus. We gotta do what we must, you know?" Martin looked at him with an odd expression on his face.

Judging by Icarus's face, however, it was clear that he did not indeed know at all. How many children were locked up in here, Casper wondered.

Martin gestured to the boy on the ground, and Cross and Gripps instantly converged on him. Casper, taking the hint, followed suit, surrounding Icarus like a pack of wolves. Martin looked down at the child hanging off of his side.

"Hey kiddo," he said," You know how to feed?"

That night was the first time that Casper felt very, very angry. And very, very destructive.


	2. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casper can't sleep, and the boys try to cheer him up.

The room was shrouded in a smothering darkness, save for the faint blue glow by the door that didn't quite reach across the small space. Casper's chest ached, and he pulled the blanket up to cover his face. The sound of Vogel's breathing, slow and soft, was just barely discernable. If he concentrated, Cas could pretend that he wasn't here in Blackwing at all.

He'd have thought, mulling over it in an agonized silence, that sleeping in a room of four other boys would be less lonely.

"Hey, Cassie." Cross's voice sliced through the silence hanging in the air, startling Casper for a split second. His eyes drifted to the direction of his friend's (he was a friend, Casper was sure) voice. "You okay, man?"

"Yeah," Gripps joined in, his voice blanketed with a failed attempt at sleep," Ya' feel anxious."

It wasn't a question.

All five boys had the irreversible and sometimes intrusive (in Casper's opinion) ability to sense, or smell, the emotions around them. In others, they could only sense fear; but in each other, they could sense everything. 

Irritation bubbled up in Cas's chest. He turned towards the wall, pulling the sheet over his head.

Things were so very different just a few weeks ago.

 

_"Theys left a jacket! Look!" Vogel waved around a jacket, barely able to get it high enough to stop the sleeves from brushing the floor. It looked gigantic, and Casper doubted it would fit even him. Vogel jumped up and down on his toes, his face alight with mischief._

_"A jacket?" Casper watched the boy with fondness, trying with all he had to keep the small grin that was forming on his face away from the boy's eye. "Guess it's yours now, then. Since they were so careless."_

_Vogel nodded vigorously causing his unkempt hair to fall into his eyes. A whoop echoed into the air as he sprinted to the bed behind them, throwing himself into it face first._

_They didn't have any money, but the men occupying the room had left early. What the staff didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Casper dropped into a chair, picking up the nearby remote and flicking the television on._

_**Fuck!** _

_He scrambled to change the channel to anything else. The television had flipped onto a scene that was most certainly **not** appropriate for an eight year old to watch. The television settled onto a rather boring jewellery program, and Casper eyed Vogel to make sure he hadn't seen the screen._

_How sick._

_Cas pointed the remote at the TV again, this time cautious as he flipped through the channels. Besides the horrendous "movie" that had been playing when the screen was flipped on, there didn't seem to be much on. Casper spotted what looked like a rerun of some old British show (he had definitely heard a British accent talking about space), but he wasn't very interested._

_Rays from the setting sun flooded into the motel room from an open break in the curtain. The line of light fell straight across Vogel's eyes, who was now flat on his back._

_The room was, in all honesty, quite beautiful. It had a rustic sort of vibe to it, with photos of... Bees, patterned on the wallpaper. It was an odd decoration choice, but Casper could get with it. The beds looked hardly even slept in. A warm feeling bundled up in Casper's abdomen; he could pretend, if just for a little while, that everything was completely and utterly normal._

_It used to be a fun game, to pretend that they were a normal family, who did normal family things. Vogel sometimes made Casper pretend to be a teacher. The small boy was very bright, actually. The game had been mentioned less and less lately, however._

_Their lives, he reasoned, probably could be a lot worse._

_Vogel sprang up, propped on his hands._

_"You're happy!" He threw his arms into the air, shouting in an 'I'm glad because you're glad' sort of way. Casper couldn't help himself; he felt a content laugh rise to the top of his throat. The sound left his mouth, and he pulled himself out of the chair to tackle the boy. Vogel giggled, grasping at Casper's hands as he embraced him. He squealed, ripples of childlike glee radiating off of him._

_Casper snatched the jacket from the corner of the bed that Vogel had thrown it into._

_"Get up."_

_Vogel jumped down to sit in front of Cas, letting the older boy slip the jacket onto his small arms. It looked gigantic; Vogel's small stature gave the impression that he was drowning in the fabric. It wasn't so, however. Vogel flapped his hands, letting the long sleeves fly wildly around._

_He smiled._

_Cas fell onto his back, his arms wide, and stared at the ceiling._

 

The underside of the blanket didn't provide much shelter. Like the jumpsuit, the fabric was thin and drafty. Through the sheet, he could feel the energy that buzzed around the room from boy to boy. Concern. Pity. Excitement. It was a very strange mix; these were strange people though, Casper reasoned.

"Casper, you alive down there?"

Martin spoke from the bed highest up near the ceiling. Cas didn't answer, twitching from restlessness. Martin signed.

"C'mon now, Cas. You can't just never talk again."

"Yeah," Gripps joined in," How're you gonna curse off the guards?"

Quiet chuckling and silent amusement filled the room for a rare few seconds. It faded quickly, leaving the boys in silence again.

"We can feel your anger, man."

Cross.

"Yeah. You're like, super pissed." The smile could be heard in Gripps's voice.

"Do ya think anger and anxiety match?"

"Probably. Maybe. I dunno."

"Blackwing is pretty shit. Probably."

"Ya know," Martin's voice was stronger now," One day, we're gonna break all this shit. Gonna regret what they're doing for the rest of their lives when we're finished."

"Can we do that?" Cross's interest peaked.

"Damn right."

"Bastards deserve it!"

"Fuck yeah!" Gripps whooped loudly. The sound of a hand swinging through the air half heartedly could be heard from other side of the room. It really was a very small space for five boys. Cross whispered harshly at Gripps, his voice still containing a joking tone.

"Shut up. The kid will hear you."

"Vogel's asleep, dumbass."

Gripps retaliated, swatting Cross's hand.

The room's energy had change dramatically. Even despite his best efforts, Casper could feel a grin forming on his face. Positive, fun energy buzzed around the room. Casper pulled the blanket down from his face and onto his chest, breathing in the fresh (was it really fresh?) air now that he was out of the blanket. It occurred to him that the others were under the impression that Vogel was, for all intents and purposes, a rather good kid.

He couldn't help himself. It was amusing.

"Man," he said, his voice peppered with laughter," Vogel has been swearing for months."

Silence.

And then, like a switch being turned on, everyone spoke at once, their voices overlapping.

"Oh, shit."

"Rad."

"Guess we're in the clear."

"What a cool little dude."

"Yo, Cas." Martin called out for Casper after the initial boom of voices. "You two ever break anything?"

Casper considered it for a moment.

"Yeah, actually. We snuck into a motel once. Vogel almost set a fire before the cops came."

"Holy shit, why?"

 

"He was bored."

 

"You trash the place?"

 

"I recall so."

Casper stared at the underside of the bed as Martin spoke up one last time.

"Can't wait to trash this place, too."


End file.
